


the prices of things (and people)

by Mister_Fox



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Amnesia, Gen, Imprisonment, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24303514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mister_Fox/pseuds/Mister_Fox
Summary: In a world of magic and monsters, there's a shop that has just about anything one could possibly need. Ichigo finds himself a frequent customer.It might have a little to do with the man who runs it.UraIchi Week 2020 - Day 3, Different First Meetings
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 20
Kudos: 183
Collections: UraIchi Week 2020





	the prices of things (and people)

There’s a shop on a street whose name is never quite the same, sitting on the ground floor of a house that looks like an old, stone tower when someone looks at it out of the corner of the eye, with a sign over the entrance that never quite seems to decide what the shop name is, or what house number it should be.

The shop always has what you need, no matter how strange or rare it is - and if it doesn’t have it, it’ll have something close enough to work anyway.

Except, apparently, yakuza tithes, because the attempts to deal with the shop was how it became so well-known around town in the first place. Not the fact that it’s been there for over a thousand years, but that a building full of magical artefacts will respond with extreme prejudice to attempts to burn it down.

Ichigo’s heard of it enough times that he’s not entirely surprised when Rukia drags him there two weeks after he accidentally takes all of her powers. It’s not like he recognises the sign - of course not - or even the street - that’s not even the same every day, but there’s nothing else it _could_ be, not when every shelf is covered in obviously magical objects, visible the moment he enters the dusty place.

There’s a counter to the right, mostly taken up by a large golden scale, the only piece of furniture not _entirely_ covered in… what looks like a well-organised treasure hoard more than anything else.

There’s a faint crash.

“Good morning! How may I help you?” a faint voice calls out from deep within the shop as a figure emerges.

Ichigo can’t help staring.

He’s not sure _what_ he expected the shopkeeper to look like, but a man dressed in simple if outdated green monk’s clothes isn’t it.

Maybe someone more obviously rich, or magical, someone decked out in shiny artefacts or enchanted jewellery. Not a somewhat unkempt man who could be a university student working on the weekend for some extra cash, eyes shadowed by a ridiculous wizard hat and a messy fringe.

Maybe he _is_ , and the real owner is elsewhere, on more interesting business than running a shop, because this guy looks like he’d have trouble killing a fly, never mind putting people into hospitals. Or morgues.

“My friend needs a weapon,” Rukia says.

“Indeed? Well, then, Kuchiki-san, I am happy to help you today. I think I have something just right for your friend. I was polishing it just this morning, in fact - had a feeling someone might have need of it.” He reaches under the counter and then pulls out a sword that could in no way have been hiding behind it, because it is almost twice as long as the actual counter is tall, a thick blade that looks more like an oversized butcher’s cleaver than anything else.

Is the man _joking_?

Then again, artificers are a weird lot, and it’s definitely not the shopkeeper’s fault that his stock looks like it does - at least this sword doesn’t feel cursed, or haunted, or anything.

Still.

“Are you certain it is a match for him?” Rukia looks even less impressed by the weapon than Ichigo. “I have heard you have Kazeshini’s twin here - perhaps something with a little more… reputation…”

The shopkeeper shrugs and then throws the sword at Ichigo with no warning.

He catches it without thinking, the weight as familiar in his hands as one of his pens.

Ichigo blinks. Has he come across it before, as a kid? It feels like he should remember it, but he has no idea where from.

“I assure you, it is a perfect match.”

Explaining why he’s carrying _this_ around is going to be fun. It’s not like he’s attended the Academy, or gotten a license, or passed any tests, or anything for hunting monsters or dealing with supernatural issues. And messing with _proper_ _adventuring_ as a _hobby_ hasn’t been in style for decades, since most young people with magical gifts not affiliated with noble clans decided they’d rather not die on quests, thank you very much.

The scale on the counter shudders, and then one of the bowls starts going down like something heavy just went in.

What, is the price of things literally measured by their weight in gold here?

“What will you be paying with today?”

Rukia sighs, and hands over her sheathed sword.

“She is of no use to me right now, so I will trade her in until my powers return.”

The shopkeeper unsheathes it, glancing over it, a long finger gliding along the sharp edge. He makes a satisfied noise.

“The Sode no Shirayuki - one of the most beautiful blades to be currently wielded. Are you quite certain?”

Rukia nods.

The scale groans again and starts moving.

There’s… something about it that makes Ichigo get goosebumps. Like it’s more than just a really weird magical calculator. Obviously, it’s not like they would have walked out of here with the sword if they couldn’t pay for it, so they wouldn’t have gotten the same fate as those _unfortunate people_ who were rumoured to have attempted to break into this place.

There are a few beds in the Karakura hospital permanently filled by people who were witnessed attempting to steal things from the shop. No one had actually seen the owner do anything to them - it’s never been even proven he could even do magic, and it wasn’t simply a curse on the objects.

And yet.

That doesn’t cancel out the fact that, historically, this building has its own fucking _body count._

He only starts breathing when the bowls are even, the plank perfectly perpendicular to the ground.

“Pleasure doing business with you today, Kuchiki-san, Kurosaki-san. If that is all, may you have a pleasant day.”

It’s only once he’s half-way through the door that Ichigo realises he never gave the man his name, never even greeted him. He looks back, but there’s no one in the shop behind him any more.

Ichigo shivers.

Hopefully, he won’t need to go back.

* * *

You can’t take out more than you bring in.

He learns that, watching adventurers come and go and _die_ as they ignore his attempts to stop them from taking things from the Tower.

Die horribly, usually, from one of a thousand curses that follow them from the doorstep - sometimes not even a full step forward before they keel over and perish, burned with ice or drowned in spiders or any of the many fates of thieves.

Because they’ve taken more than they left behind, and the Tower refuses to let itself lose its hoard.

The knot of cursework is thick and strong and one day he follows a strand of it to a scale, buried deep under a pile of cloth and coin. He sets it next to the door, and watches the next few people, the way they take and make the scale tilt, and fail to balance it by leaving anything behind in exchange.

He doesn’t dare fight the adventurers. The weapons - his hand twitches in their direction, but he doesn’t trust himself to know what to do with them. If he’s ever learned, he’s likely forgotten how to use them as thoroughly as he’s forgotten his name and where he came from before he got stuck in this place.

He can’t leave, either, not when the scale groans and creaks and tilts when he even _thinks_ of heading for the door, and he has no idea what he’s taken that he needs to leave behind, or what he could leave to make up for it.

* * *

Ichigo brings back the shards of the sword to the shop. He has no idea if it’s enough to get Sode no Shirayuki back - but if Rukia won’t be judged for losing a Kuchiki family heirloom, at least, then it’s worth trying. If he can’t break her out, anyway, and she’ll _have_ _to_ stand trial.

“Good afternoon, Kurosaki-san. How may I help you?”

“I need to give this back.”

The shopkeeper winces at the sight, as the scale starts to shift.

“What would you like for these?”

“Sode no Shirayuki.”

The scale groans and shrieks- and Ichigo is hoping that it’s just looking a little imbalanced, that it’s fine, but the shopkeeper shakes his head and frowns at him.

“You would not have anything else on you that you could sell, would you?”

Ichigo roots through his bag, but- he doubts his books or notebooks are worth very much.

Then his fingers curl around something cold and heavy at the very bottom, and he pulls it out in confusion.

It’s a ring - dropped by that serial killer monster with the parrot soul trap, the one he’d used to trap the souls, and one Ichigo’s completely forgotten about.

His fingers feel frostbitten just from touching it, and he pulls it out as quickly as he can, dropping it on the counter.

The scale tips in his favour.

The shopkeeper picks the ring up like it’s not even a little cold, and stares at it.

“Fascinating. I could swear I have not seen this one before, and yet… Interesting.” The shopkeeper tilts his head as he looks at Ichigo, and he sees those piercing silver eyes for the first time.

There’s definitely _something_ to the man, then, something more than the almost awkward air of formality of an out-of-place college student running a shop of cursed objects.

“With this ring, I think you could afford a replacement. One that I very much hope you will take… better care of.”

Ichigo pauses. “Why would I want one?”

Not like it’ll be any use without his powers. His chest still _aches_ where Orihime’s healing skills barely managed to close up the sword wound. Still. Better to have something with him when he tries to go after Rukia. He has no idea how to help her, but...

“Your friends came here, asking for healing magic. They said you were going to go rescue your friend, that you’re the only one who could. If you’re going to break into a spirit city, you’ll need a weapon to harness your power.” Those eyes feel like they’re judging him, weighing him up on some sort of scale.

“Wait- you mean I can get it all back?”

“I would say… most certainly.”

Shit. Then- Ichigo has no fucking time to waste, he has to go now, he was already asleep for two days-

“You have to give me a new sword- right now, I have to go, now- But everyone says breaking into the Seireitei is impossible, I don’t even know how to get to the _Society_ , there’s no way someone like me can-”

“It’s not impossible. Even I can tell you how to get there, and I have never left the shop in my life.”

Ichigo’s not going to ask about _that_ comment right now.

“Okay, give me a sword, and then tell me how to get there.”

But the shopkeeper doesn’t move, just watches him.

“And what do you plan to do with that sword, Kurosaki-san?”

“Huh? Get my powers back and rescue Rukia, like you say I can do.”

The shopkeeper looks at him consideringly. “How, _exactly_ , are you planning to do that?”

Ichigo frowns at him. “I don’t know - but I have to do something, and I guess I have to go _now_. Or as soon as possible, I guess. So give me a weapon and tell me how to get to the Society!”

“On one condition. You have to study with me for ten days.”

Ichigo feels like he’s going to explode.

“ _Ten days?_ We don’t have that kind of time - they said they’re going to kill Rukia, I can’t-”

“If you just want to buy _another_ sword in your chest, you can do so elsewhere,” he says, his voice like _ice_ and Ichigo gapes at the man.

“Forgive my abruptness - what I am saying is, is that you are _weak_ ,” the Shopkeeper says, his voice quiet again. “If you go up against the people who took your friend right now, you will die. You went up against them on your home turf, and you _nearly_ died - would have, if not for your friends. Without preparation, _you will die_.”

Hey, Ichigo’s going to be ready for them next time.

“I’m not going to die, I’m going to rescue-”

“The laws in mage cities are not the same as in human ones. They will not spare you for your youth or being a civilian. Also, there will be at least a month between the apprehension of a criminal, and execution. You have no excuse for not taking the time to prepare properly.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

The Shopkeeper sighs. “I want you to learn how to _not die_. And if you have any more _trophies_ , like this ring, you will need to bring them, because knowledge is also something that has a price in this place.”

Ichigo has a whole _drawer_ of bloody cursed objects he’s not managed to find a recycling bin yet. There’s no garbage disposal policy that he could find for what to do with the pieces of an _adventuring_ life trying to creep up on you.

Well, this is as good a place to ditch this stuff as any.

And if the teaching turns out shitty, at least the Shopkeeper isn’t exactly hard on the eyes.

If he can’t make them believe in a curse - because apparently whoever made him didn’t consider that a scrawny blond human wouldn’t make for a very convincing guardian spirit that can actually _explain_ to an adventurer that everything here has a price, and the Tower won’t let you take more than you came with-

Fine.

Most people seem disinclined to rob shops, aren’t they? There’s enough spare wood for him to make the bottom floor of the Tower into the shop.

If he can organise everything between the rooms- Most people do sort of know what they need when they come here, when they aren’t trying to make off with everything they can carry.

Put the scale by the door on a table, put on some of the more respectable clothes from the discarded piles… If the adventurers have questions about why there’s a shop in the middle of nowhere, well, most of them have likely seen stranger things.

Perhaps he’ll have to stop seeing people die as they step through the doorway.

Or hear them.

Or _smell_ them.

* * *

Ichigo regrets his decision to train with the Shopkeeper. So much. He regrets it _so much_.

Especially as he’s being chased around a large underground area by a bunch of _summoned fire golems that shoot fireballs_.

How is _this_ supposed to help bring back his powers?

He’s going to die before he gets anywhere close to Rukia!

His momentary distraction is all it takes for a fireball to catch up to him. He doesn’t even have time to brace, when-

A formless, blue-gold shield explodes into existence between him and the fireball, power rushing back into his body, even _stronger_ than before.

Oh. That’s how.

“The first lesson is over!” shouts the Shopkeeper, and snaps his fingers, dispersing the constructs. “Time for the second lesson!”

Ichigo groans, and curses under his breath.

“I see that you are very grateful, and are ready to continue immediately with your education.” The Shopkeeper is smiling widely, in a way that’s promising that whatever comes next will be anything _but_ nice. Maybe Ichigo can still run? He still vaguely remembers where the trapdoor was.

He’s grabbed by his upper arm and dragged off before he can protest - so he does it in the progress of being pulled by a surprisingly strong grip, unyielding as iron.

The Shopkeeper drops him on the floor - and from this point of view, Ichigo can see under the loose scarf, for a moment.

There’s a glimmering gold collar around the Shopkeeper’s throat, shining the same way as the pedestals and holders for all the really _interesting_ things in the shop do, the same way the gold on the in-built bookshelves shines.

The Shopkeeper pulls a strange stamp out of nowhere, applying it to his forehead. Then there’s a strange, stabbing pain in his back.

And then he’s being thrown to the bottom of a deep, dark pit.

“The second lesson will be learning to communicate with your power,” the Shopkeeper yells at him from high up, that annoying wide smile on his face. “I have placed a curse on you that will pull all your power into a separate form within two hours. If you do not go into your Inner World and tame it, it will manifest as a spirit entity, and kill you so it can live freely. Good luck!”

* * *

The Tower doesn’t look like much, physically, but to his other sight….

The enchantments are _gorgeous_ , Sousuke is right. The place is ancient, and yet perfectly preserved, a treasure hoard of- well, treasure, but also knowledge, and Kisuke can’t wait to get inside.

He gets off Kaede, whispering for her to stay and graze on the grass, and Sousuke follows suit, sending off his own enchanted horse elsewhere.

There’s writing, in ancient eastern draconic script over the door.

“ _If ye shall take, you must give also.”_

It’s a spell - a binding agreement, actually, if he walks through the door, and Kisuke isn’t sure, but… hm. Best not to take anything with him from the Tower, because spells as old as this one are not something he wants to get on the wrong side of. Not on what is meant to be a simple day trip to see something interesting.

Besides… well. The owner of this place may still yet live somewhere, and while they may be uninvited guests, Kisuke would rather not be a _thief_ when his survival does not depend on it.

“You can examine this all later, Ki-chan,” Sousuke murmurs in his ear, and opens the door, pulling him inside. “There’s something I want you to see above all else.”

He leads Kisuke up the staircase, past rooms - a library, a bedroom, and rooms full of glittering treasure and rich fabrics and piles of weapons and magical artefacts until they get all the way to the top.

There are more items here - in containment fields and cages and boxes, things that make the hair on the back of his neck rise, and his head _spin_ from sudden vertigo.

Those must be powerful things indeed if they make his bones feel like shattering just from proximity to them.

In the centre of the room is a pedestal and on it…

“That can’t be- the Heaven’s Jewel?”

But no, that can’t be Kisuke’s Hougyoku, because his is a different shade of _incomplete_ , has a different gap in its structure that burns his blood with its wrongness just from looking at it.

There’s something wrong with this one, too- it’s not complete, something about its natural formation that led the structure astray, something that locked the power in without leaving it a way out.

But- his own Hogy, if he uses it just right-

Oh.

The things he could _learn_ about the way the world is made.

Sousuke breaks him out of the trance by wrapping his fingers around the orb, pulling it out of the shell of magic keeping it suspended.

“We need to… find a more secure place to keep this. The Tower may be remote - I have not found traces of others’ passing through for a long time, but the door lets anyone enter freely.

“Where do you store your own version of the Hougyouku? We should put this one there too, for safekeeping.”

Kisuke frowns.

He… Has told Sousuke why he won’t tell anyone where it is. Not even him. Not even Yoruichi and Tessai, his dearest friends. He’s sworn a vow of silence to himself about the location.

Why would Sousuke ask him to break it, when they could just craft a separate hiding place for this one, when not in use?

“Sousuke, you know I _can not_ tell you. Besides- we can’t take it out from here, not without leaving something just as priceless in its stead if my understanding of it is correct.”

“That is unfortunate.”

Sousuke is standing with his back to the door, between Kisuke and the exit.

His precognition, oddly dulled all day, starts to ring warning bells. He lets his hand drift casually to be closer to Benihime’s hilt.

A silent, pre-cast binding spell freezes him before it gets half-way, anchored in the necklace Sousuke gave him earlier.

Except it’s not a necklace anymore. It’s a thick golden _collar_ around his throat, seamless and perfect.

“I am so sorry, Kisuke,” Sousuke says, standing right in front of him. “I wish there was another way- but there’s nothing else I have that comes even close to matching the orb’s value. For the object that can make any wish real- I have to trade the mind that can create anything it envisions.”

He leans in and kisses Kisuke, slow and gentle and _mournful_. An apology. A good-bye.

Kisuke can’t even blink. Can’t even move his eyes to try and look away.

Sousuke leaves.

The spell breaks the moment the door to the Tower slams shut, the sound distant, but certain. Kisuke runs down the stairs, faster than he thinks he’s ever run before, intent on running out and following Sousuke, to demand- an explanation, or apology, or _something._

The door does not yield when he tries to open it.

When he calls on his magic to blast the door open, _it does_ _not_ _respond_. Merely simmers under his skin, impotent.

When he spends- hours, maybe, throwing himself against the door, pushing and shoving and scratching at it, trying to break through it with an axe- It does not budge. It keeps _not budging_ , even as his collar grows warm and his head goes fuzzy.

And then he’s suddenly aware that he’s sitting in seiza where the Hogy’s pedestal used to be, head bowed, hands demurely folded in his lap.

The sun is… setting?

It had been night, last time he checked. When he was-

Trying to escape.

Why is he sitting here? He doesn’t- remember coming here to do it. Doesn’t remember giving up.

The collar around his throat looks... strange when he passes a mirror. There’s the same strange, enchanted glint as on the holders and pedestals of the most important items in this tower.

He tries to break it, with enchanted blades and knives and even a tool for snapping chains-

And realises he is sitting in seiza again, his mind blank, his posture perfect, calm and demure and ready.

Ready, the same way everything else in this tower is ready to be taken and _used._

He’s been traded in as a belonging. As a thing. He is a _thing_.

He doesn’t know how long he spends screaming in frustration, how long it is before he is silent and calm and demure, sitting in his place in the room at the top of the tower.

Kisuke breaths in.

Out.

In.

Out.

He’s not going to give up. Not until he has read every book and scroll and scrap of paper, tried to use every single artefact here against the door and the enchantments of the tower.

_He will not stay trapped here._

* * *

“Well done, Kurosaki-san,” the Shopkeeper says.

Ichigo groans, and curses under his breath.

At least, if he’s survived _this_ , he’ll live through anything Seireitei can throw at him, he’s certain.

Although he’s entirely not ready to actually _thank_ the Shopkeeper for this.

* * *

If not for the Shopkeeper’s rigorous training, Ichigo is one hundred percent certain he’d be dead _so many times over_. As it is, he still ends up waking up in the Seiretei’s main hospital, nearly bisected by that weird Aizen guy.

But if not for the training, the strength and speed and resilience he got-

Yeah. He’d be Ichigo-mince by now.

Maybe he should get the Shopkeeper something nice… Some groceries, maybe. He never seems to leave his place, after all, and Ichigo’s not certain he’s ever seen him _eat_.

* * *

Waiting for Aizen’s next move is… weird.

It feels like nothing has changed since he came back from Seireitei. His friends are still his friends. Or, well, he’s much closer to Chad and Uryu and Orihime and Tatsuki now, after busting open Seireitei for Rukia’s sake.

There might be more monsters in the streets now, more things to fight.

But it’s not really _different_.

There’s nothing to communicate the urgency of the coming conflicts, the promised attempt by Aizen to use the strong magical saturation of Karakura to craft a second Hougyoku, to _transcend_ and reshape reality as he wills.

At least when he spends time with the Shopkeeper, he doesn’t feel like everything’s gone all strange. Despite it looking like the guy’s literal only exposure to the outside world are customers, his television, and his computer with wifi that Ichigo isn’t entirely sure is legally acquired, he’s surprisingly good company.

Maybe it’s something about how frankly he acknowledges that things have changed and that they aren’t the same as three weeks ago.

Maybe it’s his adorable smile when Ichigo explains something new to him, or when he asks about magical theory and gets a three-hour explanation. But it’s probably not that.

* * *

Aizen kidnaps Orihime for her ability to possibly complete his shiny orb of doom.

Ichigo goes to the Shopkeeper, and gets a portal to _wherever he wants to be_ , no questions asked, just a “Good luck,” and “I hope you get back safe,” following him through the portal.

When he gets back, he swears, he’s gonna ask him out on a date. Or something.

But probably a date.

* * *

There’s something- strange that he sees, wandering through the endless halls of Aizen’s domain.

There’s a large room full of painting scrolls, in various styles. All of them signed by Aizen, all of them dated over many, many centuries.

Ichigo wouldn’t have paid them much attention if it wasn’t for two things.

A painting of a tower, the base of it the same as the shop front, with Aizen coming out of it with the Hogy.

And a painting of Aizen standing next to- what must have been a partner, their hands clasped together.

For some reason, Ichigo is pretty sure he’s seen the blond, grey-eyed stranger somewhere before.

* * *

The Hoygyoku, ripped from Aizen’s chest, weighs heavily in Ichigo’s pocket. It makes him twitchy, the feel of so much power, just there. And there are so many people who know that, right now, he _has it_.

He might have beaten Aizen, sacrificing most of his magic to do so. He won’t be able to defend it from the next person who wants to conquer the world. It’s not safe with him.

But he knows where it could be.

The Shop.

What on _earth_ could someone bring into the shop of equal value?

Ichigo has no idea, and he bets no one else will, either.

The Shopkeeper can put the bloody thing in a display case, or hide it away, or something, and no one will ever be able to take it out of the building again.

The bell rings as he enters, and the Shopkeeper is there to greet him, as always.

“I see you have returned safely! Most delightful.” He’s beaming at Ichigo. “Not that I doubted for a second, of course.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty nice to be back.” Ichigo pulls the Hogy out of his pocket. “Here. I want to hide this in your shop if you don’t mind? Here, take it.”

The Shopkeeper stares wide-eyed at the darkly glowing orb, but recovers, plucking it from Ichigo’s hands. As he does, the scales _shriek_ , and then they drop in his favour so much that one of the plates actually manages to reach the _floor_.

Ooops?

“Let me put that away in a safe location, then. Is there anything you would like in exchange?”

Right. The thing Ichigo promised he’d do if he survived the battle.

“Well- there’s nothing I’d like to buy. But I did want to ask if you would perhaps be… amenable to trip outside, in the future?”

Silver eyes blink at him, then crinkle in a smile, the actual thing hidden behind his ever-present fan.

“Certainly! Anything for my favourite customer.”

* * *

How does he pick a good day? What is a good day? What should he wear? Where should they go?

Ichigo avoids the shop for the next two week as he tries to figure that out.

* * *

“Where will we be going?” the Shopkeeper asks politely, dressed in something that’s maybe a decade out of date, but otherwise unremarkable.

Ichigo clears his throat and tries to not blush. “You said you’ve never had ice cream before. I thought, maybe if you were going to leave your shop for once, you could try something new?”

The Shopkeeper smiles pleasantly at him. “That sounds delightful. Lead the way.”

Ichigo hesitates before crossing the threshold, for a second.

But what he sees of the scales indicates that he does not owe- the shop, still, owes him.

Good.

The Shopkeeper follows him out, blinking at the bright sunlight like he’s never seen it like that.

Maybe he hasn’t. Ichigo hasn’t seen a lot of windows in the shop, and the ones he did see were dusty and grey and dirty from the outside.

Something catches his eye. The seamless glimmering gold collar around the Shopkeeper’s neck. Except it’s not seamless anymore - where there was nothing once, there is a clear, simple clasp. And around the collar, in a neat script, is written - _Property of Kurosaki Ichigo._

Oh _no_. That’s not- That’s _gross._ He didn’t mean to _buy_ the Shopkeeper from the shop. He doesn’t want to own a _person._

He will _not_ own a person.

Noticing his staring, the Shopkeeper rubs the skin around where the collar sits uncomfortably.

“Is something the matter?”

“Er, weird question, but could you take that collar off?”

The Shopkeeper blinks, and his fingers trail over the metal until they find the catch.

There’s a spark, and he pulls his hand back as if burned. He looks disturbed.

“Apparently not, Ichigo-san.”

“Do you mind if I try?”

“Do as you will.”

Is it the collar making him so agreeable? Ichigo kind of doesn’t actually want to know the answer to that question.

Ichigo undoes the clasp of the collar and takes it _off_ , the wide band much, much heavier than he'd expected it to be, and the interior side covered in a strange, unfamiliar script.

The moment the metal is clear of the Shopkeeper's skin, something- changes.

For the first time since he's known him, the Shopkeeper _breathes_. A rasping, wheezing inhale of air that sounds downright painful. In the next moment, it's abruptly cut off with a scratchy cough, and then another, and then _another_ , like there's something wrong with how the air tries to go down into the lungs.

"Shopkeeper-san? Is everything okay?" Ichigo asks, concerned. "Kisuke. My name is _Kisuke_." The words are choked out past the desperate, horrible attempt to breathe in air and the strange coughs now accompanied by a weird _cracking_ sound.

Shopkeeper- no, Kisuke, suddenly brings up his hands to his mouth as he coughs. Slivers of shining light tumble into his hands from his mouth. No, not _light_. Small, sharp-edged crystals that glow glint and glow. It's pure, congealed, _crystalised_ magic.

More and more crystals tumble out as the coughing continues and turns into retching, a horrible, painful sound. It wracks Kisuke's whole body. He starts to fall forwards from the force of his body trying to _remove_ the crystals from- stomach? Lungs? Even throat, maybe. Ichigo catches him, instinctively, wraps his arms around Kisuke's middle as the crystals tumble between them, guides him to his knees, then to sit. Ichigo keeps holding him as Kisuke bends over, arms braced against the pavement.

Kisuke reaches for his own throat, and for a second, Ichigo _worries_. But his hands start to glow a faltering green, his left hand on his throat, his right one dropping lower, fingers splayed over his sternum, as the magic sinks in and starts to heal the damage.

Ichigo doesn't know how long it takes for the retching to subside, just that his arms are properly aching by the time what falls out is just shimmering dust, no more whole or broken or splintered crystals. Kisuke's breathing is- still hoarse, but it sounds clearer, and so much _easier_. Leaving so much magic lying around on the ground is a bad idea- explosive as even weak, diluted crystals are, _each_ of these shining shards probably has more power in it than the average shipping crate of them.

At least they're barely out of the shop. If he just leaves them there, even on the floor, no one will be able to steal them, or anything. Ichigo gently lets Kisuke down to the ground as he gathers the crystals in his hands, ignoring the blood on them, and slowly transfers the whole freaking _pile_ of the inside.

How did this many of them even _fit_ inside someone's lungs and stomach? Or did everything else inside Kisuke shrivel from disuse and get pushed inside as- how did he even _get_ this much magic stuck inside his body?

Kisuke's still just lying there on the ground, pale and exhausted. Ichigo's suddenly very glad that he waited till his sisters and father were on a short trip outside the city for the night before he asked the Shopkeeper - Kisuke - out for some ice cream.

It was just in case- well, just in case they wanted to get some takeout and have dinner somewhere quiet, since a restaurant might be a bit _overwhelming_ for a recluse that hadn't left his shop as long as he could remember. And, Ichigo knows now, _physically couldn't_ have left it, even if he’d wanted. Making Kisuke go back into the shop isn't something that feels like a good idea right now.

“Thank you so much, Ichigo-san,” Kisuke whispers. “Thank you so much. I owe you-”

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t owe me anything.” Shit, Ichigo does _not_ want to be owed for deciding that owning someone is a bad thing. “It’s okay. I’ll get us home now, and, uh, get someone to have a look at you. You don’t look very good.”

“Aw, what a cruel thing to say to your partner on your first date,” Kisuke whispers, trying to sit up, before giving up and lying down to keep resting on the ground.

Ryuken probably won’t ask _too_ many weird questions if Ichigo asks Uryu to ask his dad to give Ichigo a lift. Especially if he mentions that someone might be needing a magical medical professional.

Ichigo doesn’t know what kind of side-effects there could be to being under so many stasis spells or whatever for such a long time, but they’re probably not _great_.

No matter what happens though, he’ll stick by Kisuke’s side. He’s not gonna let him die before they manage to go on at least _one_ date in the outside world.

Or, preferably, a great _many_ dates.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos extremely welcome! (I wanna know about the pain I cause)
> 
> Here's a link to [Cywscross' UraIchi Discord Server](https://discordapp.com/invite/ADFnKTZ#_=_)!


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